“But we’ll get in trouble. He’s a master. I—”
“It’s only a bit of harmless fun. I promise.”
This time Ezaara’s smile was real. “I could use some fun.”
Adelina laughed.
Dragon Flight
Roberto paced in the clearing under Zaarusha’s den, stones crunching underfoot as he recited the words to the ceremony under his breath. It’d been two hours since Adelina had gone to fetch the girl. What was taking them so long? Over two hundred folk were gathered in the clearing and over a hundred dragons were perched on the mountainside, waiting. This was the biggest event they’d had at Dragons’ Hold in years—probably in his lifetime.
Seated on a dais behind him with the other masters, Lars gave the signal. It was time. Ezaara had better show up. Roberto hesitated, remembering the mental ordeal he’d put her through in the middle of the night. Perhaps they should give her longer—last night she’d been so exhausted, she’d collapsed.
Far behind the crowd, Ezaara emerged from the main cavern. What was going on? They’d anticipated her appearance in this clearing, beneath Queen Zaarusha’s den. Adelina should’ve known that.
Roberto raised the horn to his lips, blowing a haunting note that echoed off the granite mountainsides. He gestured toward the new Queen’s Rider at the back of the crowd.
And stared.
§
That morning, Adelina had taught Ezaara how to saddle Zaarusha. She’d done her hair, helped her dress, then led her through the back tunnels and into the empty main cavern.
“No one will expect you to come this way.” Adelina’s brown eyes were warm. “You’ll surprise them all.”
Hopefully, not in a bad way. “Are you sure? I—”
Adelina hugged Ezaara. “Keep smiling and I’m sure you’ll win everyone over. I’ll be nearby, if you need me.”
It was good to have a friend among these tough riders and fierce dragons.
When Ezaara stepped outside the cavern, a crowd was gathered. Her stomach fluttered. Luckily they were facing away from her, toward the dragon masters.
Roberto blew a horn and flung his arm toward Ezaara. Folk turned to stare.
§
Roberto inhaled. Ezaara was radiant. In place of the fearful travel-weary waif was a young woman worthy of a royal court. Her light-blue robe was threaded with green ribbons that fluttered in the breeze. The crown of her blonde hair was plaited and woven with more green ribbons, leaving long tresses loose over her shoulders and back.
Ezaara talked to those she passed, often touching someone’s outstretched hand. Her laugh loosened something in his chest—something that had been tight for years.
Absently, he lowered the horn from his lips. This was the same girl he’d tested last night?
She’d passed that test brilliantly, and now she was passing the next hurdle—the folk loved her. They were smiling, shaking her hand. Excitement hummed through the crowd.
It had taken him a year to prove himself at Dragons’ Hold. How had she done it in less than a day?
There was more to her than he’d suspected. He cringed at his harsh attitude before he’d known Ezaara was Zaarusha’s true rider.
She passed through the crowd, murmuring a quiet word here and there, her slim figure coming ever closer to the Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters. Colors flitted through his head. Her, it was her. Ezaara’s vibrancy tinged his soul.
Like the crowd of dragon folk, Roberto was awestruck.
But, unlike them, he couldn’t afford to show it.
§
The crowd parted. Ezaara swallowed. It was now or never. She could do this. Maybe Zaarusha was right, perhaps she did belong here. Reaching out, she squeezed a little boy’s hand. His face lit up and his mother murmured her thanks. Those nearby greeted her. Some smiled, others reached out to touch her. Ezaara made her way through the throng, the warmth of the dragon folk wrapping around her like a fluffy blanket.
Roberto was facing the crowd, his black hair curling where it touched his shoulders. A horn dangled from his fingertips. How had he created such soulful music with a single note?
Nearing the council, Ezaara stopped short of Roberto and inclined her head. She was determined not to give him reason to fault her. “Good day, Master Roberto.”
Roberto stepped forward, his voice carrying across the clearing. “Beloved Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters, magnificent dragons, esteemed gentlefolk and riders of Dragons’ Hold, I present to you Ezaara, verified Rider of Zaarusha, the Honored Queen of Dragons’ Realm.” He waved his hand toward her with a flourish.
So formal. What was she supposed to do now? Ezaara nodded in acknowledgment.
Roberto continued, “Before the Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters, she has proven her imprinting bond, her allegiance to the realm and …”
For a moment Roberto looked panicked. He’d obviously forgotten his words.
“This is boring,” a little boy piped up.
Ezaara let out a giggle. The stares of the council members turned to ice. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand.
Roberto’s cheek twitched, right by a tiny pale scar. He continued, “… her allegiance to the realm and her devotion to our queen. Do you accept her?”
People near them tittered. Others glared.
“Gentlefolk, do you accept her?” Roberto repeated, cheek still twitching.
“We do,” the crowd called.
Roberto turned to Ezaara. “And do you, Ezaara, accept your obligation and vow to protect Dragons’ Realm—rider, warrior, dragon, wizard, farmer, craftsperson, adult and littling alike—with your very life?”
“My life?” Ezaara squeaked.
Lars, council leader, nodded at her, face grave.
“Ezaara.” Roberto’s dark eyes bored into her. “Being Queen’s Rider carries responsibility. Your decision today is binding and irreversible. You’ll be revered and honored by folk in Dragons’ Realm and despised by our foes. Your life will be in danger, and you may die fighting our enemies. Do you accept?”
Die? Like Anakisha?
